


Outwit, Outplay, Outlast

by Flying_Dragonite



Category: Outlast (Video Games), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Awkwardness, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Friends born through stressful situations, Gen, Learning to trust, Markiplier and Fan Friendship, Opening Up, Profanity, Relying on Each Other, Strangers to Friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-08 11:00:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17980085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flying_Dragonite/pseuds/Flying_Dragonite
Summary: When you (Haley Roane) click on Markiplier's first Outlast playthrough for the nth time, just to enjoy the scares and reactions once more, you had no idea the adventure it was about to take you on. Soon, a misplaced comment sends you tumbling through space-time and lands you in the courtyard of Mount Massive Asylum. And you are not alone -you've managed to drag along your hero, Markiplier, with you! This can only get worse from here, you think. And it does. You and Mark realize that you are trapped in the game, forced to play the game to get out alive. But that's not the worst of it. You begin uncovering clues that not all is what it seems to be. Notes left behind indicate Red Barrels, the game developers, were doing something heinous to make their game more... real, more scary. And while you are allowed back into the real world at the end of every 'episode', you are warned that you have to solve the mystery of whatever is going on, before the end of the game -in other words, in nine days- or both of you will be trapped inside the game, forever.





	1. Chapter 1: A Mistake is Made

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, I shouldn't be starting a new work when I've got Ancient Magickes to finish, but I just gotta post this awesome fic that's been bouncing around in my head for the past few months! Yes, that's right, MONTHS. Ever since I read a fic about Markiplier and Reader going into Outlast and having an adventure. It's not a finished fic, unfortunately, and I think the author abandoned it, again unfortunately, but it was a really good fic and I loved it for what it was. That being said, this is a completely original plot, other than the fact that the premise - Markiplier and Reader getting sucked into the Outlast game - is the same.
> 
> And yes, the Reader is named because I feel, and always have felt, like reading 'Y/N' takes you out of the immersive experience of reading, at least, it always has for me, and I find it easier to write with a named Reader too, so if you don't like it, don't read it, just deal with it! *takes out the 'deal with it' sunglasses* BTW, have you ever noticed that in Pewdiepie's Bitch Lasagna, he has sunglasses that look A LOT like the 'deal with it' sunglasses??? I WANT THOSE sunglasses!!! I wonder where he got them?! Anyway, hope you enjoy this first installment of Outwit, Outplay, Outlast!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I shouldn't be starting a new work when I've got Ancient Magickes to finish, but I just gotta post this awesome fic that's been bouncing around in my head for the past few months! Yes, that's right, MONTHS. Ever since I read a fic about Markiplier and Reader going into Outlast and having an adventure. It's not a finished fic, unfortunately, and I think the author abandoned it, again unfortunately, but it was a really good fic and I loved it for what it was. That being said, this is a completely original plot, other than the fact that the premise - Markiplier and Reader getting sucked into the Outlast game - is the same.
> 
> And yes, the Reader is named because I feel, and always have felt, like reading 'Y/N' takes you out of the immersive experience of reading, at least, it always has for me, and I find it easier to write with a named Reader too, so if you don't like it, don't read it, just deal with it! *takes out the 'deal with it' sunglasses* BTW, have you ever noticed that in Pewdiepie's Bitch Lasagna, he has sunglasses that look A LOT like the 'deal with it' sunglasses??? I WANT THOSE sunglasses!!! I wonder where he got them?! Anyway, hope you enjoy this first installment of Outwit, Outplay, Outlast!

You scrolled through Youtube, drumming your fingers on the keyboard while the other hand controlled the mouse. You weren’t sure what you wanted to watch today. It was one of your free days off of work -you were a software consultant that worked under your uncle’s company -his company did various computer-related tasks for corporate companies- though you also took commissions to pad your bank account when you had spare time. But, you always took Sundays off, as your ‘relaxation day’.

 

‘Markiplier’s 2018 Year Review’ popped up in your notifications on your computer, and you chuckled. Markiplier, or Mark Fischbach, was a youtuber that you had been watching for over five years now, and he had brought you through some of the toughest times in your life. His goofiness, charm, and genuine empathy for other people just made him one of the best youtubers out there. Jacksepticeye was close up there next to Mark in your eyes, but you preferred Mark, perhaps because you had found him first, or perhaps because Jack just screamed too much.

 

You didn’t feel like watching a review of 2018, but perhaps some old content of Mark’s would do the trick today. One of your favorite playthroughs of his was his Outlast playthrough -the first game, not the second one. The second Outlast was  _ alright _ , but it didn’t appeal to you the same way the first one did. You still remember the first time you watched the first Outlast game. You had been sitting in the library of your college, listening with headphones, when Mark had turned around in the game and Chris Walker had been  _ RIGHT BEHIND HIM _ ! You had screamed so loud, and embarrassed yourself. It made you laugh just thinking about it. Of course, at the time, you’d been mortified and had excused yourself from the library immediately. But looking back on it, it was pretty hilarious.

 

You typed in the search bar ‘Outlast -Markiplier playthrough’ and sure enough, Mark’s playthrough popped up almost immediately. You clicked on it, and settled back in your seat to watch. As the opening scene played through, you smiled. You’d watched it so many times, you knew the story back-to-front. Though, if  _ you _ were Miles Upshur, you would do things so differently, you thought to yourself. You wouldn’t have gone alone, for one thing. And the moment you knew something was up, you would have high-tailed it out of there. Seeing all those abandoned  _ military _ cars should have been the first sign that something was seriously wrong. The idiot.

 

And even  _ in _ the asylum, once he had realized he was in there, there were so many things he could have done differently! Seriously, he could have just broken a window and just gotten out of there. Or climbed a fence once he had gotten outside. But  _ noooo _ , he had to get his ‘scoop’.

 

Suddenly the youtube screen glitched. You frowned. “What the?” you muttered.

 

**_You think you can do so much better?_ ** The screen read. “Huh?” You blinked.  **_Let’s see if you can back up your claims_ ** **.**

 

Suddenly the room went pitch-black and there was a roaring of wind. “What’s going on?!” you cried in a panic. You couldn’t see your computer anymore. You couldn’t see anything anymore. Then, something hit you in the back of the head, causing you to see stars before causing you to slip into unconsciousness.

 

******

 

When you woke up, it was to a splitting headache. “Owwwwww,” you groaned. A breeze blew over your body, and you stiffened in surprise. You weren’t in your room. You blinked open your eyes and realized that you were staring up at the pre-twilight sky, reds and oranges and blues streaking across a sky covered in clouds. You sat up, and looked around, and immediately recognized where you were. The courtyard of Mount Massive Asylum, the very beginning of the game. You were laying on the cobblestone path in front of the second set of gates.

 

A quiet groan from a little bit away had you looking to the left of you and had your eyes widening. A man was laying on the ground, dark brown hair and matching stubble on his face. He blinked open his eyes and you could see they were just as brown as his hair. You recognized him immediately. “Markiplier?!” you gasped.

 

“A-a fan? Where am I?” he groaned. You hesitated. This  _ had _ to be some kind of dream. There was no  _ way _ that  _ the _ Markiplier -your  _ hero _ \- was laying inches away from you. You pinched yourself. No, the pain was there, and the splitting headache from before was still pounding its way into your skull. You were awake.

 

“You’re not going to like that answer.” you replied to Mark grimly, pushing yourself to your feet and walking over to him.

 

He sat up and looked at you, blinking rapidly as he looked around. “How did I get here? I was logging onto my computer to start a let’s play, and then…?”

 

You sighed. “I think it’s my fault. I tempted fate.” you replied bitterly, staring at the ground.

 

“We’re… at… Mount Massive Asylum?” Mark suddenly gasped.

 

“Yeah,” you sighed.

 

Mark blinked. “This has got to be some weird dream…” He muttered.

 

You laughed bitterly. “That’s what I thought,” you agreed. He looked at you suspiciously. 

 

“Dreams don’t usually agree that they’re dreams…” He mumbled. He suddenly slapped himself across the face. “Fuuh! That hurt!” he cursed.

 

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Still convinced that this is a dream?” I asked him.

 

He sent me a withering look. “So… how is this your fault? Unless you can somehow control time and space and move us into different dimensions?” Mark probed, standing up and brushing himself off. He paused. “You… you can’t, can you?” he asked, giving a small huff of a nervous laugh.

 

You laughed. “Uh, no. No, no time or space-bending powers here. It’s just. I was watching your Outlast playthrough for the… umpteenth time and I was just… thinking about how I could do everything better than the protagonist, you know… How horror games and films are so unrealistic and stuff… and then the screen… I don’t know, glitched out or something and said something like… ‘you think you can do better?’ or something like that… Then I was knocked out and I woke up here. So… yeah, I think it  _ is _ my fault.” You looked down at the ground again, cursing yourself for bringing an innocent person -especially  _ Mark _ \- into your blunders.

 

“Hey, it’s not like you can control whatever entity brought us here,” Mark said, clearly trying to be comforting, but really only making you feel worse. He was being so good about it, he was  _ such _ a good person, and you drug him into this mess.

 

You sighed. “Well, I’d say let’s take the car and get out of here,” you said. “There’s got to be a way we can get out of this game if we… I don’t know… breach the limits of what the programmers wrote into the game?” You hoped, anyway.

 

“Yeah I was figuring we’d take the car, too, though I figured we’d take it to a city and call for help or something from there, but your idea makes more sense,” Mark said.

 

You walked over to the gate and pulled it open, Mark following behind you as you walked over to the Jeep. You opened the door to the Jeep and pulled down the visor, the keys falling into other outstretched hand. You hopped into the vehicle and put the keys into the ignition, placing one foot on the brake and turning the keys into the ignition. Nothing. Not even a spark.

 

Panic seized in your heart. “Come on,” you muttered. You turned the keys again, but you got nothing again. And again. You slumped backward, releasing the brake. “It’s dead,” you announced.

 

“Fuck!” Mark cursed. He paced back and forth for a second, before looking up at you. “Release the hood, maybe I can… look at it or something,” He muttered the last words.

 

“Alright.” You released the hood, and he lifted it up, staring at the insides. You got out of the car, but not before looking around for anything valuable. You were starting to get this dreading feeling. You weren’t going to give up hope just yet, you guys could still try to walk down the mountain yourselves -it wouldn’t be fun in the darkening skies, but you  _ could _ do it-  _ but _ , you had the sense that it wouldn’t be that easy. You were starting to get the feeling that the only way to get out of this game was to…  _ play the game _ . You found an Archer V3 flashlight in the glove compartment, complete with a hook. You hooked it to your jeans. You also grabbed the small bag that was sitting on the seat beside you. You fastened it around your waist, raising an eyebrow. You hadn’t pinned Miles Upshur for a man who wore fanny packs, but then -the fandom  _ did _ picture him as gay as fuck soooo...

 

“Yeah, I can’t get it to start. This is  _ nothing _ like my van,” Mark sighed. You smiled a little at the mention of his van. That darn thing was so ridiculous, you still couldn’t believe he’d bought the thing. But whatever made him happy, you supposed. You took a moment to study him. He was a lot more… down-to-earth than you imagined him -though that could be the horrific situation you found yourselves in- but he wasn’t all… over-the-top about what he was doing. He was more… quiet and serious in real life than when he was performing.

 

You remembered when you had gone to his Your Welcome Tour in Las Vegas with your best friend. You had had VIP tickets and had the whole experience. It had been amazing, seeing him in person, but you’d never had the chance to speak to him before. You felt bad now, feeling like you had let him down by not seeing him as a real person before this moment. You took a deep breath. You needed to focus.

 

“Well, we can maybe get these gates to open and try walking down this mountain path and getting beyond the programming of the game?” You offered.

 

“Alright,” he agreed, seemingly not to have noticed your moment of spacing out. Then he paused, seeming to realize something. His cheeks had turned a little red. “Um, I just realized. You know my name, but I, uh, I never asked yours.”

 

“Haley,” you replied. “My name’s Haley.”

 

“Well, it’s nice to officially meet you, Haley,” he smiled at you, sticking out his hand.

 

You took it, noticing how warm it was. It wasn’t quite as rough and calloused as, say, your grandfather’s, who had worked hard with cars and woodworking all his life, but it wasn’t as soft as your hands, which had hardly ever seen much hard work. He shook your hand, not quite firmly, but not limply.

 

“It’s nice to officially meet you, too, Mark. You know, I went to see your Vegas Tour,” you commented off-handedly.

 

“Oh? Did you… like it?” He asked, not-quite-nonchalantly.

 

You grinned. “I  _ loved _ it,” you gushed. “It was amazing! I got VIP tickets, so I heard your singing and everything and you were amazing, and my friend got picked to answer one of your questions and-” you broke off, blushing, realizing you were rambling. “Well. Yeah. It was great.”

 

Mark’s eyes were shining. “I’m glad you liked it,” he said. “I’m always happy to hear that my hard work paid off,” he said.

 

You walked over to the gate and tried to push it open, but it wouldn’t budge. “Hey, could you give me a hand?” you asked.

 

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” He said, walking over and pushing with you.

 

Nothing happened. It was like the gates were fused shut. You groaned. “I was afraid of this.” You looked up. “We could try climbing the gates.”

 

“How? There’s no place to put our feet.” Mark pointed out. “It’s all smooth metal.” 

 

“Uh, how about the bricks?” you pointed out.

 

“Oh, duh.” Mark blinked.

 

You tried climbing over the brick wall, but as you reached the top and tried to climb over, something like an electric bolt shot through you and you screamed, and, unable to hold onto anything through the pain, fell back. It was only thanks to the fact that Mark was standing right behind you that you didn’t fall on the ground. But you fell on top of him. He staggered under your weight for a moment before lifting you up in his arms and setting you on your feet. You would have blushed from the contact, but you were busy recovering from the electric shock of whatever invisible force that was preventing you from leaving.

 

“Are you OK? What happened?” He asked frantically.

 

“There’s some sort of… electric barrier at the top of the fence,” you grimaced. “It shocked me when I tried to go over.”

 

“Oh my God, are you OK?!” he demanded.

 

“Y-yeah, about as much as you can be after getting electrocuted,” you smiled ironically.

 

He turned and looked at the Asylum for a moment before sighing in resignation. “We’re going to have to go through the game, aren’t we?”

 

“I’m afraid so,” you agreed grimly. “I think that’s the only way out. I- I just hope we can avoid the ending Miles Upshur got,” your voice shook, just thinking about it. It was one thing, to  _ think _ that you could do better in a situation like that. It was quite another to  _ actually _ do it. Especially when every action that you would do differently was being blocked at every step.

  
“Hey, don’t -don’t think like that,” Mark said, looking at you. “We have each other as back-up. Miles didn’t have anyone. We’ll get through this in one piece, I’m sure of it.”

 

You took a deep breath. “Right. Right, you’re right. We’ll take things one step at a time.” You took the flashlight from your jeans. “I found this flashlight in Miles’ car. We can use it in the Asylum. I’m assuming we’ll have to find batteries for it like in the actual game, despite batteries lasting a lot longer in a flashlight than in a camera. At least, in the real world.”

 

“Probably a good assumption,” Mark agreed.

 

“OK, so… from what I remember -and I should, I’ve watched you and others play through this game like, at least fifteen times, the hole in the fence is to the left of the entrance. That’s where we’ll have to go.”

 

“Well, you’ll remember better than me, then. I only played the game once, and that was over five years ago,” Mark said.

 

“I know this game pretty well,” you agreed. “But I don’t remember  _ everything _ . Some parts of the game were more boring than the others, so I didn’t pay as much attention during those parts -specifically the outside portions… aaand those were the hardest parts, in my opinion. Because you’re scrambling around in the dark, unable to see three feet past your face, getting lost every few steps,” you commented. “And those portions had both the Walrider  _ and _ Chris Walker stalking the grounds.”

 

“Remind me who Chris Walker is again?” Mark asked.

 

“Little Piggy,” you responded. You wanted to smile, but it really wasn’t funny when faced with the very real threat of death that Chris Walker posed to you now.

 

“Oh, that guy. Shit,” Mark shuddered, clearly imagining the same thing you did. “I died so many times to him.”

 

“We can do it,” you said reassuringly. “We just gotta…  _ believe _ !” you did jazz hands, and Mark laughed.

 

“Yeah, alright, Spongebob,” He rolled his eyes, and started walking towards the asylum.

 

“Actually, I was channeling the Polar Express guy. Spongebob was ‘ _ Imaaaginaaation _ ’.” You said, throwing your hands out in a half circle as you walked behind him.

 

Mark chuckled. “Whatever floats your boat, I guess.”

 

The two of you reached the gap in the fence, and Mark hesitated. “I know there’s nothing beyond that fence to kill us yet, but a part of me wants to insist on going first anyway,” he said, a bit sheepishly.

 

You threw him a look. “What, you think just because I’m a  _ girl _ , that means I can’t take care of myself?” you asked dryly. But inside, you were secretly relieved. You didn’t want to go first into this crazy, murderous place. But still, your pride demanded that you protest on principle.  _ Especially _ because you both knew there was nothing to kill you yet.

 

“N-No!” Mark denied. “I just -I don’t you getting hurt!”

 

“Well, it’d be my own fault, now wouldn’t it?” you said, and crouched down before he could stop you, crawling through the gate.

 

“Haley!” Mark’s voice was half-annoyed, half-concerned. You got up and turned around, putting your hands on your hips. He was looking at you, his brows furrowed, his mouth turned down into a frown. But, there was amusement in his eyes. After a moment, his lips turned upward. “You are a stubborn person, aren’t you?”

 

“My mom used to say, if you pitted me against a brick wall, the brick wall would cave first, I’m that stubborn,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m afraid it’s one of my fatal flaws, along with my temper.”

 

Mark turned his head to the side. “Fatal… flaws?” he asked.

 

“Yeah, like… the flaw in you that’s most likely to get you killed,” you said off-handedly. “Or, you know, into really bad trouble. Yours is probably your empathy for other people -some would say its a ‘hero complex’.”

 

Mark looked insulted. “I don’t have a hero complex!” he denied. “It’s not a bad thing to want to help people you know! Just because _you_ don’t care about other people-!” He broke off, looking away, breathing heavily.

 

You sent him a sharp look, offended. “Hey! Who said I don’t care about other people! I was just saying- look, I didn’t mean- I’m sorry I even brought it up,” you muttered. You sighed. “Look, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just meant… some people see empathy as a weakness, and they’ll use it against you, that’s all. I’ve had it… happen to me before,” you said, closing your eyes.

 

_ Look at you, thinking they cared about you! You’re  _ **_nothing_ ** _ , Roane! Nothing but a  _ **_freak_ ** _ with  _ **_drunks_ ** _ for parents! Haha, I’ll bet  _ **_they_ ** _ don’t care about you, either!  _ **_No-one_ ** _ will  _ **_ever_ ** _ care about you. _

 

“-ley! Haley!” Someone was shaking you. You opened your eyes, realizing Mark was in front of you, holding onto you, looking down at you in concern. He must have crawled under the fence and caught you when you slipped into your memories. You shook yourself free from his hold, standing more firmly on the ground.

 

“I’m alright,” you dismissed his concerns.

 

“The hell you’re alright, what was that all about?” he demanded.

 

“I’m  _ fine _ , I just -I have some bad memories, alright? I just -got caught up in one, that’s all.” you muttered defensively.

 

Mark stared at you, his face stern for a moment, before he sighed, and he brought up his hand to run it through his hair, his face lining with the stress of the situation. You felt bad for bringing this on him. “I’m sorry, I’m being a jerk,” you said. “This isn’t your fault, and I’m… not trying to take it out on you. Let’s just… get through this. Together, right?” I held out my hand as a peace offering.

 

He grasped my hand. “Right. Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well you made it through to the end! Hooray! Markiplier and Reader (Haley) have gotten themselves into quite the pickle, haven't they? How will they deal with it? Tune in next time to find out!!!


	2. Chapter 2: Together, Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Welcome to the second chapter of this fic! I haven't got any of the next chapter written next (I have some of the future chapters written, but none of the next chapter), so it may be a while before the next chapter is put out. Anyway, hope you like this installment! We get some PLOT in this chapter :D

You analyzed the scaffolding leading up to the window warily. “You think this is going to hold?” you asked skeptically.

 

“It held up fine in game,” Mark said, shrugging.

 

You stared at the scaffolding nervously. You had a fear of heights, ever since you were little, when you almost fell out of a three-story apartment window when you were two years old. You could barely remember anything about it, but you  _ do _ remember the sense of falling, and being terrified.

 

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of heights?” Mark joked.

 

“I almost fell out of a three-story apartment building when I was two,” you said quietly. “I had been leaning over the open-screened window, trying to look below, when the screen broke, and my mom barely made it to me in time to catch me before I fell to my death.”

 

Mark was silent for a moment. “I-I’m sorry,” he eventually said.

 

You shook your head to clear your thoughts and smiled at him. “It’s alright. You didn’t know.” You clapped him on the back. “C’mon, we’re not getting any younger.”

 

“Right.” He climbed the ladder, and you followed him up. You got to the top easily enough, but looking across the boards, you were struck by a sense of vertigo, and closed your eyes, an icy bolt of fear jolting in your heart for a moment.

 

“Hey, it’s alright,” Mark reassured you. “I”ll go first, and I’ll catch you if you start to fall, alright?”

 

You took in a shaky breath and gave him a trembling smile. “OK.” You watched him anxiously as he made his way across the boards to the edge. He grabbed the metal pole of the scaffolding with one hand and held out the other towards you.

 

“Come on, Haley,” he said, beckoning you.

 

You braced yourself and reached out for his hand, stepping forward with more confidence than you felt. You felt better the moment you felt Mark’s hand in yours, and you reached the other side easily enough. You took in a breath as you looked up to Mark, hoping you didn’t look too foolish.

 

He smirked down at you. “See, it wasn’t that hard,” he teased. You glared half-heartedly up at him -darn your shortness, he was almost a whole head taller than you were! How was that fair?! You were cursed with the shortness of your mother and your mother’s mother, and  _ her _ mother’s mother, and so on…

 

“Easy for you to say,” you muttered. You looked around the corner at the boards still in your way, and steeled yourself for what was to come.

 

With courage and Mark’s help, you got through the most nerve-wracking portions, until you were scrambling over the window sill and into the room. You had just straightened up, with Mark hauling himself into the room, when the light in the room suddenly brightened in intensity, and the light-bulb shattered.

 

You jumped and yelped. Mark muttered a startled, “Fuuck!”

 

You grabbed for the Archer V3 at your belt, finding it and flipping it on, shining the high-intensity beam around the room. Furniture was strewn around the room, smashed and broken. Puddles of blood glinted off the floor, and the rank smell assaulted your senses. “S-sorry, I forgot about that little jumpscare,” you apologized. You felt like an idiot for forgetting, but it was little, and didn’t harm you, so you supposed it wasn’t a  _ big _ deal. You just hoped you didn’t forget a  _ big _ jumpscare, one of the ones that could kill you two.

 

_ The Television is going to scream _ , you remembered. “Hey, we got another jumpscare coming up around the corner. Not the literal corner, but like -well, you know what I mean,” you said awkwardly.

 

“What is it?” Mark asked as you navigated the darkened room.

 

“The next room -the television is going to flip on, and there’s gonna be this horrible scream, but nothing happened in the game to hurt Miles.” You  _ sincerely hoped _ things would stay true to the game.

 

“Oh yeah, I dimly remember that,” Mark recalled.

 

You walked into the hallway, and braced yourself as you paused in front of the slightly open door of the next room. “You ready?” you asked.

 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Mark’s smile was more like a grimace.

 

You pushed open the door and braced yourself as the ear-splitting scream greeted you. You covered your ears, and spotted Mark doing the same out of the corner of your eye. The television had clicked on, and you could swear you saw something moving in the static of the screen. Your heart dropped.  _ It’s way too early to see the Walrider in the static! _ You thought frantically. You’d not seen any horrors, no insanity -unless, it was… counting the fact that you’d… you’d watched Outlast play throughs over and over and over… You gulped and tore your eyes away from the television as the scream finally ended.

 

Mark was looking at you with concern. “Hey, you OK?” he asked. Damn, he’d noticed your fear.

 

“I’m fine, it’s just… that scream was more heart-wrenching than startling, don’t you think?” you commented.

 

“Yeah, it sounded like someone who’d just lost… everything,” Mark said, lowering his eyes to the floor in contemplation.

 

You placed your hand on his back. “Hey, it’s alright. We’re gonna get through this. Together, remember?”

 

“Right. Let’s go,” Mark said, walking into the hallway. “I remember this part of the game. Are we… supposed to collect the documents?” He looked at you in askance.

 

You looked at him and blinked. “Uh, hell if I know. I guess… we’re supposed to play the game, right? That means doing it right, I suppose. Let’s collect the docs, then. We don’t have a camera to record the events, though. Or a notebook to jot down our thoughts.”

 

“Well, we’ll just do what we can and don’t what we can’t,” Mark said. He looked ahead at the blockade of bookcases and filing cabinets. There was a narrow passageway to squeeze through. “Well, here goes nothing,” he muttered.

 

He turned sideways and  _ squeezed _ his body through the narrow gap, gasping as he did so. “Jesus, Miles made this look easy!” he complained.

 

“I hope one of us doesn’t get stuck some time,” you worried, eyeing the narrow gap nervously.

 

“Oh, don’t say that,” Mark groaned. He finally made it through, and beckoned you from the other side.

 

You stepped forward and flattened yourself as best as you could, and squeezed through the gap. Mark was right, it was harder than the game made it out to be; the shelves pressed against your body in all the wrong ways, forcing the air out of your lungs. You struggled to take in breaths as you squeezed through the gap. Then you were free, and you took in deep, relieved breaths. You followed Mark as he continued forward.

 

He stepped into one of the offices, looking around. “Aha!” He came up with a battery. You took it, examining it, and then popped open the Archer to check its contents.

 

“I can’t believe this,” You muttered. “It’s the same damn battery.” At that moment, the flashlight spluttered out, plunging the two of you into semi-darkness as the only light that remained came from the dim light spilling in from the hallway. “Of fucking course,” you cursed.

 

You popped out the battery inside the Archer, and put in the new battery, hearing a little clicking noise. The flashlight flickered for a moment, before the beam of light flashed back on.

 

You both let out a sigh of relief. Then, you chuckled nervously. “Heh, l-let’s, uh, get going before we use up too much of this battery.” You flicked off the light, and walked into the hallway, Mark right behind you.

 

Mark led the way down the hallway, stopping in the next room to pick up the document that was laying on the seat of the office chair. He came back out into the hallway and flipped it open, lowering it so you could read it with him.

 

_ Red Barrels Incorporated in association with Murkoff Psychiatric Systems _

_ Walrider Insertion Project _

_ Mount Massive CO _

_ Case Number: 174 _

_ Patient Initials: WPH, “Billy” _

_ Inmate Correlation Initials: FIH, “Fischer” _

_ Inmate Age: 32 _

_ Gender: Male _

_ Observing Physician: Dr. Rudolf Wernicke (RB’s own Dr. Price consulted on the insertion) _

 

_ Inmate Initial Observations: _

_ Fischer seems to have “seen the light” since he was imprisoned. He wants to make up for what he’s done. He is clearly tormented by the murders he’s committed. His childhood trauma (See Notes) indicates that he’d be a perfect candidate for the Walrider Insertion Project. Recommend further observations to test compatibility. _

 

_ Notes: Fischer Ian Hope, 32 - murdered his mother and sister in cold blood at age 20. His father had died the previous year, and apparently had beaten him and his family into submission up until that point. Fischer, learning from his father’s example, continued this abuse cycle after his father’s death, until one day, he snapped and went too far, killing both his mother and younger sister. Claims to regret it -pled guilty, but they still served him the death sentence to ‘set an example’. _

 

At the bottom of the page, in a scribbled pen, there was a note:  **_poor bastard. At least if we use him, he’ll have a chance of redemption._ **

 

You looked up at Mark’s face, which was scrunched in concerned confusion. “This isn’t what was in game,” you ventured.

 

“No, it wasn’t…” he agreed in a low tone, flipping over the sheet to see if there was anything on the back. There wasn’t.

 

“This doesn’t make sense,” you said. “ ‘ _ Red Barrels Incorporated _ in association  _ with _ Murkoff Psychiatric Systems’? Red Barrels is the game studio that produced Outlast and Outlast 2. What’s their name doing  _ inside _ the game lore?”

 

“Maybe this  _ isn’t _ game lore…” Mark muttered ominously. You gulped.

 

“Iiiiiiii  _ think _ that’s the cue to move oooonnn…” You said. You held out your hand for the document. “I’ll put that in my bag.” referring to the fanny pack fastened around your waist.

 

Mark raised an eyebrow. “Huh, I… didn’t even notice that, until now…” he muttered. “Where the hell did you get a fanny pack?”

 

“Well, we  _ were _ focused on more important things,” you reminded him. “And, it was in Upshur’s car.”

 

“Huh. Didn’t pin him for a man who wore fanny packs,” Mark hummed.

 

“ _ Actually _ , most of the fanbase pictures Miles as a proud, flirty gay man,” you smirked.

 

Mark choked on the air. “ _ Excuse me?! _ ”

 

You felt hot suddenly. “Uhhhhh. I mean, I’ve just  _ heard _ that,” you said, backtracking quickly.

 

“Oh, no no no no no, you’re gonna explain what you just said.” Mark said, turning to you with a strange expression on his face. It seemed to be a strange mixture of bemusement, bewilderment, and seriousness.

 

“Uhhhh… I mean, that is… we’ve gotta… gooo…” you tried to say.

 

He raised an eyebrow. “We’re not in any danger right now, and I’m really in no hurry to rush into the dangerous sections of this game, are  _ you _ ?”

  
“I-I mean, I kinda wanna go  _ home _ ,” you pointed out.

 

He sighed. “Fine, don’t tell me. I just… thought you would like me to know you a bit better,” he said, a bit sadly.

 

You reddened. That was below the belt! “Oh,  _ fine! _ ” you hissed. “I read...  _ fanfictions, _ ” you spat out, embarrassed.

 

Mark smiled wide. “There, was that so hard?” he teased. You glared. He snickered, walking down the hall. Then he paused, as if struck by a thought. “Uh…” He turned toward you, an uncomfortable expression on his face. “Did you ever… read fanfictions… about…  _ me? _ ”

 

You instantly turned as red as a tomato. “N-NO!”  _ Yes! _

 

He groaned. “You  _ did! _ You know that’s creepy as fuck, right?”

 

You sighed. “Ugh… I… I never really thought about it as  _ creepy _ . Well, I mean, I  _ did _ , but I just… I never really thought I’d meet you in real life, so I just... figured it’d never really matter, you know? You were my idol, of course I…  _ fantasized _ about meeting you, about becoming your friend, about… just… you know,” you said uncomfortably.

 

“I…  _ guess _ that makes sense.” he was clearly still uncomfortable with the whole idea.

 

“Let’s just forget about it, OK? We kinda have… more pressing matters to think about, anyway.” you pointed out.

 

Mark shook his head. “Right. The game.” He looked down the hall, and you followed his line of sight.

 

The bathroom door was slightly ajar, and you said, “That door is going to slam shut as soon as we get close.”

 

“Right, I remember that. Jumpscared me, but then I made fun of whoever was in there,” Mark said, looking ill at the thought of it, now.

 

You looked at him sympathetically, but didn’t say anything, figuring that after the whole thing with the fanfictions, it would be awkward to try and comfort him. “Wellp… No time like the present,” you said, walking forward. You braced yourself, but still jumped as the door slammed shut.

 

You sighed. “Yup, knew that was gonna scare me anyway,” you muttered. You turned toward the other door. You opened it and a fresh wave of blood and rotting flesh smell came at you. “Uurrgh!” You gagged.

 

“What?” Mark asked, coming up to your side. “Oh, uugh!” He covered his mouth and nose with one hand.

 

“The sad thing is, I think we’re gonna eventually get used to the smell,” you said. “Your nose gets quote-unquote “tired” of smells pretty quickly, luckily. I mean, we’ll still be smelling it, but it won’t be as strong after a while.”

 

“Thank heavens for small mercies,” Mark muttered.

 

You glanced at him. “Well, no time like the present. Let’s get up in that vent.” You looked up at the vent. It was pretty high, and you were… short. You crossed over to the wooden board that leaned up against the overturned vending machine. You reached up for the vent and were just able to skim your hands across the top of the vent. You grunted and tried to pull yourself up.

 

You didn’t make much progress -you’d never been one much for exercise, and your upper arm strength was… not very good. After a few tries, you put your arms down, panting, rolling your shoulders in their sockets.

 

Mark came up beside you. “Need help?” he asked dryly. You glanced at him and flushed. His muscled body compared to your weak, (and honestly, flabby) one, had you embarrassed. That, coupled with his reaction to finding out about your previous fanfiction experiences, had your self-worth shrinking. So out came the snarky, sarcasm.

 

“Well, it’s not like everyone can own a personal home gym.” OK, so that was kind of bitchy, but honestly, you were kinda pissed that you couldn’t get up there on your own, and that he was going to have to pull you up.

 

He rose an eyebrow at you, but said nothing as you moved out of the way for him to lift himself into the vent. As he crawled into the vent, you heard him bang his head on the top and curse. You smirked, trying not to giggle.

 

He took a moment to crawl in, reorient himself, and crawl out far enough to pull you up. It was going to be crowded for a moment or two up there, that was for sure. He reached down and offered his hand to you. You grasped it with the opposite hand and used your other hand to push yourself up, his strength doing most of the work. He backed up as he pulled you up, leaving you room to get inside the vent. You hissed as you scratched your arm along the sharp edge of the vent trying to get in.

 

Finally, you were both inside the vent, and you were both panting with exertion. “Well… that was… harder than it had to be.” you gasped. Mark gave you the evil eye.

 

“Well, if someone hadn’t skipped arm day….” he trailed off meaningfully.

 

You gasped, acting mortally offended -inside, you were shrinking from the criticism, but you weren’t going to show weakness in front of  _ anybody _ , least of all your  _ hero _ \- and said, “Well, my good sir, maybe I had a good reason for skipping arm day, did you ever think of that? Maybe I was busy doing other, more important things! Say, for instance, saving the world with my super brain!”

 

Mark snorted. “Yeah, OK.”

 

You rolled your eyes. “Alright, onward, Ironman,” you pointed with your finger down the vent.

 

“Ironman? I’m not Ironman!” Mark protested.

 

“Sure you are. You’re the extremely intelligent almost-an-engineer who landed himself in a sticky situation and is going to invent us a way out of it,” you snarked.

 

“Alright well, if I’m Ironman, then who are you?”

 

“Easy. I’m the poor Pepper Potts who has no superpowers and is going to get herself killed!” you replied cheerfully.

 

“Nah, Pepper is pretty competent at keeping Tony in line and on track. She knows how to use Jarvis to her advantage, and she’s pretty smart, as well. She’s not helpless, and neither are you,” Mark argued.

 

You blinked. “I’m pretty sure I’m useless,” you said blankly, staring at the other vent wall, refusing to look at him. You weren’t used to people telling you that you were good at things. People always tore you down, told you that you were useless, terrible, no-good, worthless. That’s why you put up a facade of being awesome. You didn’t know how to react to someone who told you otherwise.

 

Sure, Mark had always said in his videos that his fans meant everything to him, and that everyone was worth  _ something, _ to someone. But it had never really meant anything to you. As far as you were concerned, he was saying it to a blank wall. He wasn’t really saying it to  _ you _ . He didn’t mean  _ you _ . If he were to actually say those things to you…. You wouldn’t know how to react.

 

“Haley. You are  _ not _ useless. Just because you couldn’t lift yourself up into a vent? We all have weaknesses. That doesn’t mean we can’t overcome them!” Mark argued. “Listen. You know this game better than I do. That means you have an advantage I don’t. We’ll help each other in this. Together, remember?”

 

You shuddered, then shut off your emotions. It didn’t matter. Mark didn’t know you. He was just saying these things because he needed someone to get through the game with. You stared past his face, toward the end of the vent.

 

“Right, whatever,” you dismissed his words. “Let’s just get through this game. Come on, we’ve wasted enough time here.”

 

Mark looked frustrated with your closed-off response, but didn’t argue with you. He turned his body around and crawled toward the end of the vent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooooh what could the NOTE mean?!?! O.o That's for me to know and you to find out :3 Anyway, I'd love to hear your theories/thoughts/comments down below! Hope to see you next chapter! See ya around~


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